


The Widower's Song

by Nillen



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4513287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nillen/pseuds/Nillen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alastair was packing up James’ belongings when he saw it; an old music cassette with his name written on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Widower's Song

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Kingsman: The Secret Service.
> 
> Well, this story is unintentionally written down by me, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway ;)
> 
> Story is edited by faded. brilliance. I love you mate <3

Alastair was packing up James’ belongings when he saw it.

It was an old music cassette; the strange one out of the many cassettes that James loved, and always bugged him with. He used to record his songs onto those cassettes, including his sappy love recordings for Alastair. James had his own old radio as the player and recorder, Alastair knew it because his mother gave him that. Mrs. Spencer had once informed Alastair that James was a romantic at heart since he was a kid, and he had begged her so badly for her to buy him the player and blank cassettes. Alastair thought that it was adorable, but he never told James that.

And now he had no chance of telling it at all.

Alastair blinked his eyes slowly, and rubbed his thumb on the dusty surface of the cassette. The white sticker on it usually described James’ emotions; ‘Happy’ means all the songs inside were of a happy James, ‘Anxious’ for an anxious James, ‘Sad’, ‘Anger’, and so on. However, the one in his hand now only had ‘For Alastair’. It was written with his chicken scratch handwriting, using black marker, and Alastair felt something ache in his chest.

He never really had the chance to mourn over James Spencer.

Everything had just been going on so fast; James’ death, his little sister’s admission as the new Lancelot, the V-Day, Harry Hart’s survival, the new Arthur and Galahad’s reunion, and now, six months after all of that, here he was, sitting down on the floor of their bedroom, finally having the strength to change their bedsheet and go through James’ belongings.

Alastair was sent by the previous Arthur to a number of missions after James’ death. Alastair himself had demanded that he should be the one to continue the late Lancelot’s assignment but Chester deemed that it was too close to home for him. To make it worse, he was in Russia when his lover was cut into half.

He had made his way back to London as soon as possible, and after he told Roxanne about what happened, James’ favourite little girl had cried herself to sleep. The next day, her eyes are strong, and she told him that ‘ _Please, let me keep his name_ ’.

Alastair had always been the disciplinarian between the two of them, but since James was no longer there to submit to all her wishes, he believed that James would like her to keep his name. And so he did what he had to do.

Roxanne – no, Lancelot, was now on a mission with the new Galahad, somewhere in India. Harry had fretted so much about them; probably because they were the youngest agents and Eggsy was someone to Harry like how James was someone for Alastair.

Roxanne was supposed to be back today, around noon, and Alastair had prepared lunch. It was 11.32 in the morning now, and packing up all his miseries had seemed to be a good idea, until it was not.

Alastair did not know how, but his hands were not as steady as he wanted them to be, as he reached out for James’ old player that he had found a few minutes earlier. James had placed all these cassettes and radio inside a brown luggage bag he kept under their bed. Alastair told him once before that he could put them somewhere more accessible to him; easier for him to put them on play whenever he felt like it. But James said that he would prefer that they kept the space for _their_ things, rather than his.

So the table that Alastair had bought for James’ radio and cassettes collection, was now used to put the picture frames of photos of their little family.

20 years of knowing each other, 9 of it of being together, and Alastair could not believe that James was now gone.

He slowly pressed the button on the radio to open the cassette slot, and pushed it close with tentative fingers once he placed the cassette in.

_For Alastair._

James’ voice echoed in his head, and Alastair pressed the button ‘Play’.

At first, all there was to be heard was small crackling sounds, as if James was adjusting the radio, or finding a place to record it without being heard.

_“Umm… Alastair, darling?”_

Alastair did not know what happened, but suddenly he was sniffing, and he had to rapidly blink his eyes a few times to clear away the moisture in his eyes that was blurring his vision. James sounded so young, and he let out a nervous chuckle before there was the crackling sound again.

_“You are going to kill me when you find out about this recording, are you not? But then again, I recorded this for a reason, and well, I think you are listening to this now because I am, or, in your time, dead, right now.”_

There was a fleeting moment of silence, in which Alastair did not know what to do but to stare confusedly at the radio.

_“Okay… let me start with umm, the introduction first. This is awkward. I’m not sure how I am supposed to say this but… well, I am currently recording this at our home, today is 23 rd March 2006, Thursday. Last night you told me you loved me back. I think it’s because I almost died, but you said you have loved me for a long time before that, so I am going to believe you… Hell, what am I talking about, I have always believed in you, Al, even if you said that pigs are flying or Harry is sane, I trust you. I love you ever since the first time I saw you, and I trust you more than I trust myself. Right now, you are sleeping in my bed, our bed, for the first time as my lover. I know we’ve been having a lot of sex before this, and they still matter, each and every instance, but last night… last night was the first time you told me you love me, without me having to say it first. Damn it, Al, you would never know how precious you are to me.”_

Alastair stared at the radio, James’ voice a soft music to his thundering mind. His chest hurt, he should stop playing this, his chest hurt so much-

_“Anyway, the point of this recording is that… I want to say I’m sorry-”_

“No, you don’t get to do this, you bastard-” his finger was already on the ‘Stop’ but James’ voice was something that he had missed so very much, and he did not even get to see James’ body for the last time.

_“I’m sorry that you are afraid of commitment after what happened with your parents. I’m sorry that what you have learned about loving and being loved, is that everything in the end, will burn out into ashes. I’m sorry I burned you. I’m sorry that I said I won’t… because apparently, I did.”_

Alastair’s hands balled into fists in his lap and he stared at the radio as the feeling that he had tried so hard to destroy comes welling up inside.

_“I hope Roxy is okay, my best girl, I know she’s going to be okay… Al, look, I know you don’t like this sort of things but in our line of work, we know that most of us, we don’t get to say our goodbyes. We don’t get to say most of the things that need to be said, and I don’t want to die regretting that you never had to chance to listen to all of this. I love you, Alastair Morton, I love you with my entire heart and soul. Life without you is never something that I would want to experience again, not after the first kiss we had in front of Café de Flore in Paris 3 years ago, not after getting to know Roxy, not after last night. Never again. You are listening to this, because you would have found this recording I kept under our bed, and the only reason why you would take it out in the first place, is because I’m no longer there to keep you from doing so. I plan to destroy this cassette on our 10 th anniversary, 10 years after today, and make a new recording for you, but now it looks like our little song has come to its end… just not the way how we wanted it to be.”_

Alastair’s fisted hands were trembling terribly by then; his eyes closed and his body curled into itself in an imitation of a child trying to protect his little heart. He could barely listen to James’ words throughout his sobbing, and it was a miracle in itself that he had not grabbed the radio and threw it against the wall by now.

If James were here, he would have sat beside him and wrapped his arms around him. The only time Alastair had ever cried in front of him was the night before James had made his recording. At that time, Lancelot had been compromised in a simple mission. It was supposed to be a grab-and-go, but the people had been expecting him to disguise himself as one of them. He escaped with barely a second to spare before the warehouse exploded into smithereens by the bombs that were planted there. Merlin shouted at him for refusing to follow orders to evacuate the area quickly, just because there were two kids being held hostage at the same place.

Alastair couldn’t be mad for long at him, he had Roxanne, his younger sister that he would die for, he could understand that, but James was a part of his life that he had never wanted. He had never wanted James, or his funny laughter, or his tendencies to cause high blood pressure in people, or his love.

James was someone that he had never wanted. James was just someone he needed.

He had shouted, screamed, yelled and cursed the other half of his soul, putting venom into his words, and torn James apart with his passive fury clawing their way into his eyes and voice.

But in the end of it, Alastair lost their battle. He lost his courage and strength and-

_“I’m a Kingsman, James, stop making me human.”_

\- and he had realized that he was already crying by the time James finally took him in his arms and shushed him with his gentle kisses.

 _“I’m sorry for everything, Al,”_ James’ voice was quite shaky by the end of the recording, and Alastair shook his head minutely, refusing to open his eyes and look at James’ shirts, books, cassettes, and all the odds and ends scattered on the floor all around him; some that he would need to keep, some he would try to give away, and most he would burn along with his future with James,

 _“But I love you, and I hope that you will be happy regardless of whatever the future holds for you. Hell, I hope you would live longer than I do, I will always hope that_ we _do, and this cassette is not being listened by a freaky stalker or worse, Harry and Merlin, God forbid that to happen… I- I just love you, Alastair Morton, so very much, I’ve already forgotten how not to do so anymore.”_

A weak chuckle followed his words, and Alastair bit his lower lip until he could taste blood, trying to stifle a painful whimper from escaping, but failed horribly. His shoulders shook and Alastair cried out, broken down like a destroyed dam, crying for a love that was his to be kept, but lost it anyway.

He has had enough of being the strong one, he has had enough of being the man who could be counted on by everyone, and he has had enough of being Percival, a Kingsman.

Now he was Alastair Morton, whose future was now void of one James Spencer, and he was now a man who deserved to mourn for his lost heart.

Alastair’s hands slowly moved to grab his hair, and he pressed the heels to his palms against his crying eyes, unable to stop the violent trembles of his body anymore as the recording finally came to its end.

_“But now, let me love you while I still can, all right, darling? Take care of yourself, please take care of yourself, give little Roxy a kiss for me, and… and I’ll see you again, okay? Okay… I love you, Al, don’t ever forget that I will always do.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I suggest you to listen to The Widow's Song/The Widower's Song, by Levi Weaver feat Rachael Yamagata. YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT.
> 
> Thank you for reading this anyway! :)


End file.
